Dragon Ball DBD: The Strongest Under the Heavens
by SKSDBD
Summary: Three years have past since an evil king's reign was put to an end by a trio of mysterious heroes. Peace had been restored and civilization is slowly revitalising in the wake of the tyranical ruler's defeat. However, the planet now faces two even greater threats. Can the world's only hope of survival, a young man, do what is necessary to maintain this new era of tranquility?
1. Warriors Gather!

**Author's Note:** Hello, everyone. I hope this retelling of the classic Dragon Ball tale will prove to be an enjoyable read. Insightful critiques are encouraged. And now I present…

Dragon Ball DBD

**Chapter 1**

A long, long time ago, in an age where peace had come to a halt and beings of ill nature locked away for over a millennium were unleashed upon the world, a battle between good and evil had begun. The Demon King Piccolo, an embodiment of malevolence and corruption, had escaped an imprisonment created by warriors of old and sought out to conquer the planet Earth using sheer inhuman force that could quake the earth and burn the widest of forests. He had swiftly taken out the mightiest of rulers across the world and began a reign of terror. One that did not last long...

In this world filled with people and beasts of all kinds, the enthralling art of fighting was a pursuit that went beyond learning to survive in harsh lands and battles. It was a form of expression, a way to test one's might, and a gateway to achieving inner peace. Fighters from all over the land would rigorously train their bodies and challenge their limits to become stronger, and add their own chapter to the ever growing study of the martial arts. Some people, be they those who have the fiercest of wills or just inner talents, can even learn to control intangible, otherworldly strength from within.

Not long after King Piccolo began his rule, three unsuspecting young warriors, martial artists who had come from humble beginnings with no stories or titles to prove their worth, had appeared out of nowhere to take the world back in the name of mankind. The Demon King had scoffed at this seemingly outrageous challenge as he believed himself to be a god among petty ants. Still, he decided to indulge himself and his lust for torturing mortals. However, to his shock, the young fighters proved a match for the dark lord and began to overwhelm him.

Never before had he been on the receiving end of such a vicious assault empowered by the hope and vengeance of those he had given a living nightmare. This almighty clash of bone and sinew was finally too much for the Demon King to handled, and so, he finally succumbed to defeat after a final, fierce attack by one of the fighters: a mere young boy.

Soon after King Piccolo's death, the handful of fighters who had unwittingly wrote themselves into legend disappeared. Many people had witnessed their triumph, but none knew nor learned of their names or where they had come from. All they had come to see was a new era of peace and prosperity once again.

* * *

It was late-afternoon on the day when the world's strongest, people from all over the globe who wished to test their limits in brutal hand-to-hand combat, all converged to the site where the ultimate martial arts tournament would be held. Near South City, there was an island dedicated to this most grandiose of events which would take place every three years. The venue of this world championship was comprised of a rather humble, small ring and a few small buildings surrounding it that would house the preliminary rounds of the tournament, a cafeteria, and an infirmary for the participants.

Towards the entrance of the tournament grounds, a yellow cab arrived which passengered a cane-bearing old man with a long beard wearing distinctly dark green-shaded sunglasses. Accompanying him was a beautiful young woman with striking purple hair. The two exited the vehicle and began waiting, unable to contain their excitement over the occasion.

"Ah, it's been a few years since I've seen this quaint old place. Time sure flies by quickly the older I get, and yet that familiar crest upon the entrance always gets me pumped up the moment I step foot on this very pavement," said the old man.

"Oh, please, it's not like you'll be taking part, you old fart. What is there for you to get so 'pumped up' about? The most action you'll be getting this year is lifting your arm up to feed your big mouth while you watch the actual combatants duke it out," replied the young woman.

"Give me a break will you!?" shouted the old man. "I may not be entering, but my greatest students will be, and I must be there to witness their inevitable triumphs. Without me, they'd be nothing I tell you. Nothing."

"Whatever you say. I'm just looking forward to meeting them all again after such a long time. It's such a shame they're always running off to train most of the time. We rarely see everybody any more because you boneheads are so obsessed with beating the snot out of each other." said the young woman.

"Oh, you poor, poor, poor thing. You just don't understand the fine intricacies and depth of this terrific sport," the old man exclaimed as he playfully smacked the young woman's rear.

"What did I just say about that when we landed on the island!?" the young woman screamed. "Any more of your perverted antics and you'll need more than a cane to get around, old man!"

"'intricacies'. Please. What exactly is so complex about getting a black eye. Bah... And where the heck is everyone?"

"Don't worry, they'll be here soon," the old man reassured her. "You'll see. I bet you in five minutes they'll be blazing past the corner."

"How 'bout in five seconds, old timer?"

Ecstatic, the girl and the old man quickly turned around to find the source of this familiar and innocent-sounding voice which responded to the old man's proposed wager. To their delight, the young man with messy, long black hair whom the voice belonged to waved back and greeted the two.

"It's been a good while, hasn't it? Both of you look well. Bulma. Roshi."

The old man who he called Roshi tipped his hat. "Likewise, my boy. Goodness, you've grown tall, and I've no doubt you've improved your techniques greatly since I last saw you."

"Definitely. Travelling the world really opened my eyes and I got to see all sorts of wonders and unique places. I learned a few things or two throughout my journey as well, but I still kept your old teachings in mind." Sly bowed his head with respect.

Sly, a boy in his early teens, was the youngest of a handful of students that trained under Muten Roshi, also known as "The Turtle Hermit," a very old man who lived on a small island far from civilisation. Roshi was a master of martial arts who has survived many battles and continues to maintain his great strength and provide wise consultations despite his seemingly feeble, old appearance and lecherous habits. .

"Hehehe, that's very good of you, son. Hey, have you seen any of the others while getting here?" Roshi asked searchingly.

Sly titled his head slightly. "No, can't say that I have. I'm sure they'll all show up eventually, though. Most of us trained together up until about two years ago then we went our separate ways after vowing to better ourselves for this very tournament."

Roshi nodded. "Mmm, I'm certain you'll all be together once again, I just hope the rest of you kids will show up already before it starts to rain. It's getting cloudy up there!"

"Maybe Bulma could quickly whip up something that could suck 'em all up and we all wouldn't have to worry getting wet," Sly said jokingly.

"Laugh it up, kiddo. But don't think I couldn't if I wanted to!" Bulma posed confidently.

Indeed, the young girl named Bulma was a science prodigy and daughter of the great, yet a little flaky, inventor Dr. Brief. A high-spirited individual, Bulma can be a little overbearing towards others, but she's good at heart and can produce the wildest of inventions that could only make her father more proud.

Bulma squinted, trying to make out three figures in the distance. "Wait a second... Is that...? Yes, it is! Hey, you guys! It looks like we won't have to wait any longer after all." Bulma chuckled.

As Sly and Roshi turned their heads in the opposite direction, three young men, all wearing heavily warn travelling gear and large knapsacks, approached. The group consisted of a young spiky dark-haired adolescent, a stern-faced man, and a blonde haired with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

"Hiyaa, guys!" shouted the adolescent. "It's great to see ya. Are any of you as starved as I am?"

"Oh, boy. Only our little brat Kai could have food in his mind twenty-four seven." Bulma sighed.

The young man named Kai folded his arms. "Gee, thanks for the warm welcome. And watch who yer callin' little! I'm taller than you now."

"Wow, he's right! Ahh, nuts. Now I'm the small one of the group again!" Sly pouted.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, little one. Size doesn't stop you from wielding great strength. A giant could fall from the might of an individual who has learned to tap into their innermost power," the stern-faced man explained.

The blonde haired man groaned. "Crap. Now you've got the bloomin' sod rollin' his mouth again. Shut your gob, Kage, and let's get a move on alread- Hot damn, is that you, cher!?" He quickly raced forward as he caught sight of Bulma. "Damn, you're lookin' as fine as ever, bird."

"And you're your usual charming self, I see, Axel…" Bulma responded sarcastically, but she was still clearly flattered by his attempted flirtations.

"Typical. A young punk compliments a woman and it's all sunshine and daisies, but when I do it, it's a restraining order," muttered Roshi.

Axel, having heard Roshi's uttering, scoffed. "That's because I look with m'eyes, not with m'hands, you old codger."

Roshi waved his walking stick in Axel's face. "That's a laugh. You could only hope to be as much of a sophisticated gentleman like me, sonny!"

"May we please move on and register now? It's getting late and it's starting to drizzle too," Kage interjected as he raised his palm to feel small droplets starting to fall from above.

As Roshi and Bulma waited nearby, the group of four fighters began to move towards the registration booth near the entrance, eager to put their names down and finally enter the "Strongest Under the Heavens" martial artists tournament. They were all very aware that they may face one another as they fought through the ranks of the tournament, and that not all of them will reach the finals, but they still genuinely looked forward to these very match ups most of all, hoping to test their new and improved abilities against each other.

Kai stopped short near the booth and just realised something important, something he'd forgotten in all the excitement of the reunion between old friends. "Wait, aren't we forgetting something really important here?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I got all my smokes right 'ere." Axel patted his left breast pocket and began to take a cigarette out.

"I'm serious," Kai shouted.

Axel flinched while trying to light his stick. "S-so was I, mate..."

"Come on. Think, everyone. Where's Sora? Isn't he going to be here? He loves to fight as much as any of us do, surely he wouldn't forget about the greatest contest of all time." Kai brushed his head worryingly, trying to assess the situation.

"Who?" Axel asked as he puffed some smoke nonchalantly.

Sly pouted. "Sora, you nimrod. Our buddy, remember!? He should be here!"

"Oh, yeah, the third of you Turtle School kiddies." Axel slapped his forehead in realisation. "Heh, maybe the little bugger chickened out. Not surprising, considering I'm entering n' all."

"Axel, I don't even think he'd acknowledge you if he were here." Kai searched around the corner and across the street for any sign of his friend. "Argh… I don't see any sign of him. Damn it." He kicked the pavement. "Argh, let's just get this over with then."

Kai, disgruntled, registered himself on the sign-up sheet for the tournament and Sly and the others followed suit as the rain became heavier.

"Alright, you kids, lets hurry and get some shelter. We'll book some rooms at the hotel for a few nights across the street where all the combatants usually stay. I hope that insanely cute receptionist still works there," Roshi said mischievously as the group of young fighters returned to the sidewalk.

"Is she as ancient as you?" Axel chuckled.

Kai shook his head. "Axel, you still don't know the ol' goat all that well, don'tcha? He only goes after the hot ones he'll never get. And ones below the age of conse—"

Roshi conked both of them on their heads with one swing of his walking stick. "That's enough out of you two for one day!"

Kage rushed forward to calm the Turtle Hermit. "Please sir, not so rough!"

The four fighters, Roshi, and Bulma reached the hotel and checked into their separate lodgings. Bulma occupied one room alone, in fear of Roshi pulling off any of his perverted antics, Kage and Axel shared another, and a third room would house Kai, Sly, and their master. Each of them headed off to sleep early in preparation for the big contest, itching for the big fights to come, but Kai remained awake as he lied in bed, deep in thought.

Just as he and Sly always desired for intense matches, he knew that Sora was also one who'd never back down from an intriguing challenge. True, his love for fighting wasn't as obsessive as Kai and Sly's constant, unusual everlasting fixation on finding more and more tough, sometimes borderline overwhelming, opponents to battle, but such a prestigious event in the world of martial artists was certainly one that he believed his friend would not miss.

Kai tried to shrug off any negative possibilities in his mind that could be the cause of Sora's lack of appearance. "Hey, Sly, you still up?" Kai asked as he turned towards the opposite bed.

Sly groaned and slowly sat up. "I am now…" he said as he rubbed his eyes.

Kai breathed a heavy sigh. "Sorry. It's just that, I'm still worried about Sora not showing up today."

"You're still getting all stressed out over that? Geez." Sly folded his arms, annoyed by the matter. "Look, you know it's possible that he could have just signed up earlier today long before any of us showed up. Just because he wasn't there late in the afternoon doesn't mean anything. It's not like he _had_ to stick around the whole day there waiting for us."

Kai nodded. "Well, I know that he isn't one to be patient. I guess he could have wandered off to tour the city or something."

"There, see? Nothing to worry about. Too bad we didn't spot him yet, though. One would think he'd check into this hotel like every other fighter who came all the way out here. Maybe we'll meet him early tomorrow before we leave for the tournament." Sly pondered.

Kai furrowed his brow. "Still, don't you think it's weird, how he just took off like that? Shortly after he left, Kage told me that Sora said he was going to see Karin and…"

Sly raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Huh? Oh, Karin. He's the great immortal martial arts master who lives atop this insanely tall tower that was located far in the west. Kage, Axel, and I actually wound up climbing it and training under him ourselves not too long ago. You wouldn't believe how tough it was getting up there! Although, the training he gave us was no easy picnic either."

To almost anyone else, such claims would seem nonsensical and unbelievable, but to Sly, it was far from the most irregular things he had seen or heard of in his entire life. To him, it sounded natural, like the next big step in the schooling of those who trained to become the ultimate fighter. He could only gape in wonderment at such task.

Sly recollected himself. "Wow, so this Karin guy was really strong, huh?" he asked, intrigued.

"Definitely. I also learned a bit of interesting information: he actually trained Roshi years and years ago when he was young." Kai grinned.

"I'm not surprised. It explains why the Master's so powerful. Only some all-great martial arts expert could have taught him how to be the best." Sly gently smiled as he turned, looking at his old teacher in admiration.

"Oh, you flatter me, son," Roshi suddenly spoke, surprising the two young boys who now wondered how long he had been awake. "But, even though you may not notice it, you two kids have surpassed me in skill and strength long ago, and that was before you all went off on your own, learning to better yourselves by experiencing the world's wonders."

Kai sat proudly, thinking highly of himself, while Sly blushed.

"Now, go on, my boy." Roshi sat up and faced Kai. "As much as I enjoyed your little tangent, you were talking about Sora. Did he go to Karin Tower?"

"Apparently, he did. I never got to find out why exactly, though. When the others and I finally climbed up there months later, Karin only teased us when we began asking questions." Kai sighed.

"That sneaky little runt. It's just like him to be coy when there's no time for games." Roshi clenched his fists."

"And yet he gladly taught us what little we could learn from him when it came to his training, heh..." Kai smiled half-heartedly.

"Well, It looks like we won't be figuring out what the deal is till tomorrow. That is, if he shows up at all." Sly yawned.

"Yes, yes. It's no use expending your energy on fruitless musings." Roshi laid back down. "It's late and you both need to get some good rest. I have a feeling that this tournament will be one to remember for years to come."

The two boys agreed, laid back down and slowly drifted into sleep, entering a brief respite from their worries and concerns.

"Good night, you two."


	2. Masked Purposes

**Chapter 2**

The sun rose early that morning, shining brightly upon the southern islands as the day of the great martial arts tournament began. The city was bustling lively and countless people were becoming more and more eager for the big competition to start. Many late-coming fighters raced for the registration booth, signing up their names before it would be too late.

Around the corner of the front entrance crowded by entering combatants, a young woman carrying boxes, each labelled with a red cross, was walking towards the back of the compound. She smiled as she looked at the lively streets filled with cheerful faces, amazed at how quickly civilisation had managed to pick itself up after the agonising reign of the evil Demon King three years ago. What once were heavily damaged buildings, struck down by the cruel ruler's sadistic attempts to instil fear into all those who dared to even think of opposing him, were now standing tall once again.

The new peacetime that had been miraculously granted to the world by unknown heroes did not keep her heart entirely at peace, however. Deep in her mind laid thoughts of worries and doubts.

Her eyes widened as she entered the rear entrance, noticing a dark figure to her left, leaning against one of the brick walls that encircled the complex. Despite a jet-black cloth wrapped around his head, almost masking his entire face save for his sharp, piercing eyes, she realised who he was instantly due to his familiar dark cloak and unusually tall and imposing figure. He gave a small nod towards her.

While a little shaken by his presence, she approached him and bowed her head, returning the gesture. "Hello. I almost didn't recognise you there. Um, may I ask why you're wearing that over your—"

"Face?" He turned and glared at the cities' citizens going about their day on the street across from the back entrance. "Well, seeing as how my appearance may… disturb others due to certain complications— complications that I recall you yourself acknowledging once— I've decided to enter the tournament in a more discrete manner."

"I see" She steadied the uneven boxes in her hands. "Are you doing well lately? It's been a few weeks since I last saw you. Please tell me you haven't gone about searching for h—"

"That's none of your concern."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just…" Her mouth quivered. "If you ever need to talk, just know that I'll be there for you."

"What do you mean? Why would I need to tell _you_ anything?"

The young woman felt hurt by his words. For over three years she had known this person, and for most of that time, she thought that their friendship was mutual. However, this wasn't the first instance where he had spoken to her so coldly. His sudden change in attitude had been going on for some time now. He preferred more and more to keep to himself, and would get easily agitated if any company was offered.

Wishing not to push his foul mood further, she moved for the back door of the rear building. "Well, in any case, I'll be in the infirmary."

The masked man scoffed as he looked at the boxes of medical supplies in her arms. "Is this all you're going to do for the rest of your life? You should do your forefathers proud and take on the path that you were born for, not wasting your time dealing with the wounds of inept ruffians. Do you not wish to carry on your family's legacy?"

The young woman stopped short in front of the door. "But I… Isn't saving people's lives through nurturing, and easing their pain just as honourable?"

"Perhaps, but I know of your heritage, and it's not one that should be spoiled."

She struggled to find words, wishing to change the subject. "So…" She gestured towards the tournament buildings behind her. "Are you sure that you want to go through with this? Really, you don't have to do all that for me. It would feel like I'm taking advantage and stealing away other people's chances to earn a good fortune." She looked down, guiltily.

"You shouldn't. You've helped me a great deal and I wish to repay you, and what's a more superior reward for all your troubles than the tournament's prize money?" The masked figure raised his hand. "If you wish to ease your conscience, I'm not doing this just for you."

He clenched his fists tightly as violent, painful memories came flooding back. Thoughts filled with images of long blonde hair, pale skin, sadistic eyes, an insidious grin, and condescending laughter. The small pebbles around his feet began to shudder, and the air around him started to heat up with an intense, burning aura.

"I am a warrior. That's just what I am, and what I shall always be. When a warrior's resolve is tested and their pride is crushed, they must press on and try to reclaim their dignity. It is now my time to do so, and ensure that no one will ever again attempt to surpass me."

"But won't you just be facing fighters far weaker than you? Or do you mean… Wait, is _she_ going to be there? Is this what it's all really about? Her?" the young woman asked, fearing the answer.

The masked man stood silently. With no response to her queries, he only stared at the large, aged buildings that housed the competition's preliminaries. His eyes were burning, not with the passion and love of a fighter, but with an intense desire for retribution.

"I must go. I've no time for dawdling any further."

The young woman moved forward. "No, wait!" In her haste, her boxes toppled out of her arms.

It was too late. Right before her very eyes, he vanished instantly, as if he had just blinked out of existence. With a sob, she kneeled towards the fallen supplies.

As she began piling them back up one by one, her thoughts continued to revolve around the masked figure and what had just transpired. That malicious glint in his eye was now etched into her mind; a warning of undying anger and a lust for vengeance, once thought to be pacified, that may soon come to be satisfied once and for all. But she didn't have the strength of her father, and she was in no position to stop the man she called her friend from doing something awful. Who possibly could?

As she reached for one box, a shadow loomed over her palm. She raised her head to find its owner and right in front of her approached a young man. He scratched his head, looking left and right searchingly.

He caught sight of the young woman. "Excuse me, ma'am. This may seem like a peculiar question, but have you seen a tall, dark, menacing, possibly short-fused individual hanging around here lately?"

She just stared. Caught off guard by the sudden, odd inquiry.

"I'm sorry, scratch that. I just realised that should probably account for like ninety percent of the participants here today, huh?" He eyed the boxes all over the ground. "Uh, May I lend a hand with that?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. Thank you." With a sigh, she continued stacking the boxes. "I'm not usually this clumsy, but you know, it's a busy day and all. It can be very stressful."

"Yeah, I know that feeling." He knelt down and picked up two boxes with little effort. "I take it from these that you're a medic for this year's competition?" he said as he eyed the red crosses. "Not to be a negative Nancy, but you may have your work cut out for you."

"Is that so?" She smirked a little. "Why? Are you planning on sending a lot of entrants to the infirmary yourself?" she asked jokingly.

He chuckled. "No, no. It's just that… Well, call it a hunch."

"I see. I didn't think you were really a fighter." She eyed his exotic, tattered, brown poncho. "Are you a tourist coming to watch the competition? It's not everyday one sees such… interesting apparel here."

"Actually, _I am_ entering the tournament this year as a matter of fact. Don't worry, though, I'll try not to rough anybody up too much."

"Oh really? I think someone's being a little too over-confident."

"Eh, considering I know for certain that I'll manage, that's debatable." he said nonchalantly. "However, I haven't gotten much sleep these past few days, so I'll have to try a little harder. For today at least." He yawned.

Hearing those words, she could only look upon him in pity. Here was another participant who thought too highly of themselves, too naive and so self-assured to understand how much of a struggle they'd be in for. She had seen young fighters with big dreams being sent to the medical ward many times in the past, always broken and their hopes crushed after facing reality.

With all of the boxes in a pile, he lifted them up. "Through there, right?" He gestured his head towards the sickbay's building.

"Yes. Thank you." She opened the door for him.

As he entered the infirmary, the pleasant warmth of the sun left, the cool temperature inside immediately taking over. He looked at the two long rows of beds on opposite sides of the room, ready and waiting for this year's entrants who would receive the harshest of defeats in their attempt to win the championship. A sense of foreboding came over him as grim thoughts filled his head. As much as he wished, he knew that it was all too true that this year, in this room, there will inevitably be a multitude of occupants.

"So." She eyed him suspiciously.

"Er, yeah?" His wandering mind snapped back to reality. He inhaled heavily, catching the scent of antiseptics filling the air, and laid down the boxes on the infirmary's floor.

"Forgive me if I'm being nosey, but may I ask who were you looking for? 'Tall, dark, and menacing' people running around here isn't exactly a situation we'd like to be dealing with right now. You weren't trying to pull off any shady business back there now were you?"

The young man gave a hesitant laugh. "No, no, no, no. It's nothing like that. D'ya really think I look like the type of guy who'd be involved with shady dealers?"

She scanned him apathetically and gave him an unconvinced look as she leaned against a desk.

He sighed. "Look If I were involved with someone like that, I wouldn't be asking people if they'd seen 'im, now would I? Least of all you."

"Excuse me?"

"Uh. Sorry. Um, I mean, if I were to do that sorta stuff, I'd be keeping a low profile, wouldn't I? It'd be pretty stupid of me to be bringing attention to myself, especially from people who actually work here, like you, right?"

"Right." She smirked. "Well, if you're not here to make trouble, why are you looking for it?" she asked interrogatively as she began to circle him. "Is this sinister person an entering combatant as well? Someone who you're looking to rough up?"

"N-not exactly. I, er— Well, I—" He turned his head, trying to catch her eye.

She stopped in front of him, eager for a straight answer. "Yes?"

Staring at the man, his eyes closed in deep rumination, she noticed a handful of fading nicks and indentations upon his face, and a small scar near the corner of his left eye reach down to his cheek. Even if he was a martial artist, it was still unusual to see so many wounds chiselled all over his face, especially on someone as young as he. Was the person he was looking for responsible?

It was then that she realised the uncomfortable silence that had entered the room. One not unlike the last that had interjected her previous conversation before it was cut short.

"What is your name?" he suddenly asked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Chiko."

"Well, Chiko… Rest assured, you don't need to worry about any mishaps during this year's competition. The last thing I want is for this wonderful day to be ruined by any unfortunate circumstances." He opened the door. Bathing in the warm sunlight once again and taking a deep breath, he took leave.

"Hey, wait a minute." She ran to the doorway. "I gave you my name, the least you could do is tell me yours!"

As he approached the back-exit of the premises, he turned.

"Sora."

* * *

All the participants gathered in the large building closest to the compound's entrance where the preliminary rounds were to take place. Inside, eight fighting rings were situated in the centre of the arena. The sun's rays gleamed through the small windows along the enclosure's walls.

The place was packed with combatants of all shapes and sizes. Some were hulking, grisly figures that looked as if they could crush an average-sized man with their two bare hands, others looked petite, fragile, and out of place in the crowd of battle-hungry combatants.

Despite the legion of fearsome opponents eager for action, nothing could deter Axel, and Kage's enthusiasm to get into the crowd and be a part of another historic event in the world of martial arts. Kai and Sly on the other hand were despondent, having still not reunited with their old fellow Turtle School student.

Earlier that morning, after the pair had woken up and, much to the shock and awe of nearby eaters, indulged their almost-insatiable appetites by scoffing down a plethora of food taken from the hotel's buffet, they opted to wait downstairs on the ground floor of the hotel while the others were getting ready. As they waited, they hoped Sly's words from the other night would ring true, and their old friend would emerge from the stairs or lift to the upper-level lodgings. As time passed, all that greeted them before their teacher and the others joined them was the chill of the room's air conditioner and the growing noise of bustling citizens and tourists outside.

Now, with Roshi and Bulma's best wishes, the four fighters were patiently waiting for the preliminaries to begin.

"May I have your attention please?" A voice echoed across the area, emanating from the other end of the room.

Everyone turned to look for the source, laying their sights upon a tournament representative standing on a stage. Other staff members surrounded the platform, sitting before multiple desks with boxes laid atop each of them.

"Wecome to 23rd Strongest Under the Heavens Martial Arts Tournament. We have quite a turn out this year, so let's quickly move to our first order of business. We will begin by selecting fighters for each match using lots drawn from the boxes located on the tables before you." He walked towards the wall behind him, raising his hand at a large board displaying a tournament bracket. "Each of you will then compete to avoid being eliminated until there are only _eight_ fighters left who will then move on towards the quarterfinals. I will now explain the rules."

A series of groans escaped the impatient audience.

The representative ignored the fighters' unabashed moans of disappointment and continued. "A participant loses a match if they're knocked out, falls out of the ring, or forfeits. If a contestant uses a weapon of any kind or kills their opponent, they will be disqualified. You may now receive your tickets. Good luck to each and everyone of you, and may you all fight fair."

Lines began to form hastily before each desk; the fighters were pushing and shoving, growing more and more anxious as they waited before it was their turn, hoping not to be pitted against powerful opponents on their first round. Some contestants caused a stir by cutting in line, and others came close to almost backing out, growing more and more tense as burly, intimidating entrants breathed down their necks.

A short while passed, and Kage, Axel, and the two Turtle School boys received their designated numbers.

"Hey, I got number four! So that means I'm in the first half of block one." Sly smiled. "Guess you guys get to see me in action first, huh?"

"Maybe, so long as I'm paired up with some poor git who'll go down fast before you get your turn on your end." Axel looked down at his lot. "I'm in the second half of block three, but I'll be in the first fight o' that side so I won't be stickin' 'ere for much too long."

"Really?" Kai said. "I'm in the first half of block three!"

"Izzat so, kid? Well, if you do well, you just might just have th'pleasure of facing me very soon." Axel laughed.

"I'll try to contain my enthusiasm." Kai scoffed. "What about you Kage? Are you anywhere near our spots?"

"No." Kage pointed towards the area containing the third and fourth of the building's eight rings. "I'll be taking part in the second block. If all goes well for Sly and I, it won't be till the first round of the semi-finals that we'll do battle. I do not worry, for Sly is a powerful martial artist. I however may have a little bit of a challenge on my hands. Right now, I sense a powerful presence among those situated around the same block as mine."

"A… presence?" Sly asked.

"Yes. It's actually a little familiar to me, though I can't quite put my finger on it. Curious." Kage fondled his chin in deliberation. "Yes, I'm sure I've sensed it somewhere before… Although, now it is one that is burdened with heavy thoughts and uncertainty."

With his eyes closed, and his mind focused, he could easily discern this energy that he had once become acquainted with. The feelings of remorse and tribulation flowed through the distinguished spirit, masked by a falsity of other, pleasant emotions. Emotions that had once been genuine and fuelled this energy's fire and passion for fighting.

He smiled to himself. "The strong do make for the most intriguing individuals, don't they? I'll indeed be in for an interesting experience soon enough."

Kai watched as Kage began to move towards the second block. He took note of his friend's intrigue in this supposed person whom he'd come to face, wondering if there was truly someone who could be more than a match for him.

"Ah, I'll never get, Kage." Kai folded his arms. "Him and this 'sensing' business. I don't feel anything but the hard, stone floor, the annoyingly hot temperature today, and an itch for a good fight!"

"Guys, it'll be a while before my match starts so I'm going to look around for Sora. Try not to cause any trouble today, mmkay?" Kai said.

Axel spat at the ground. "The 'ell d'you mean by that?"

"Oh, y'know, at these events there's always a bunch of big lugs giving everybody the stink eye, trying to provoke someone for the fun of it. With your temper, I just wanna make sure."

"My fight'll start soon, but there's no rush so I'll come too," Sly volunteered.

Axel kicked the floor. "Is it so damn hard t'fink I could be civil? Y'bastards put so little faith In me, I swear."

* * *

"Number Thirty-One, would you report to the ring, please." The referee called. "Lot Number Thirty-One, are you there!?"

Among the crowd assembled together around the first ring of Block Two turned many heads. The participant containing the thirtieth lot had taken his position moments ago, but his opponent was nowhere to be seen. Adjacent to the arena, the first match of the second half in the same block had already ended quickly due to a ring out and the following contestants were already taking their place.

Against the wall nearest to the congregation of Block Two entrants, a person lied peacefully, his face bowed down, touching the material of his tattered poncho. A handful of fighters surrounded him, pointing towards the lot that laid in his outstretched hand on the floor.

"Hey, isn't that him? What the hell, guy? Get up off the floor!" said one burly martial artist.

A smaller, thin fighter kneeled down and smacked the young man's cheek. "Hey, kid, you're up. This is no time for dozing off."

His eyes slowly opened, still half-asleep. "Mmm… Wha—? Issattimeferbreakfast?"

A multitude of participants growled in anger. Never had they seen such tardiness at events such as this. They could only be perplexed as to why such a young individual, so unkempt and clearly out of his league, would come all the way out here to this tournament just to sleep through it. Maybe he was a confused homeless itinerant who had lost his way. From the look of his rags, that seemed to be the case in everyone's minds.

"No, you punk. It's time for you to get in there and be taught some manners!" shouted a fighter from the crowd.

"Er, yes. Please, sir. The preparations for the preliminaries have been made a while ago and we're waiting for you to take your place," the referee requested.

"Oh. Right. Mmkay…" He said as he rubbed his eyes, slowly got up and stretched "Sorry, everyone. I'm just a little sleep-deprived and needed a little nap, but I won't do that again. I promise."

"What are you, five years old? Just stop wasting our time and take your spot already!"

"Right!" The young man exclaimed.

With dozens of sighs and contorted, enraged faces relaxing, the group of contestants calmed themselves and all moved back, circling the ring for a better view of the fight that was to come.

"But first, I should go to the bathroom."


End file.
